flash fiction

i volunteered to help st. elizabeth's arts kick off their flash fiction evening and for the past two weeks have moderated the adventure. the gist - you're given a prompt, followed by five minutes of brainstorm time, followed by twenty minutes of writing time, followed by five minutes of editing time, followed by the opportunity to share. the object is to have a self-contained story. fun, no? below is the piece i wrote last week. the prompt was to write a story including the following sentences: "It was all going so well. And then the phone rang." i've left it exactly as written - no after the fact editing. enjoy.

It was all going so well. And then the phone rang.

Now if I had half a brain – which obviously I don’t because if I did I wouldn’t have had my phone on in the first place – I would have ignored it, let the miracle of voice mail take care of it.

I didn’t. Mistake number one.

I felt her questioning eyes on me as I reached into my pocket. Without meeting them, I lifted an apologetic hand and glanced at the glowing screen. Harriet. Of course. Perfect timing as always. I should have slipped the phone back into my pocket, turned off the ringer and whispered, “Sorry about that,” to those questioning eyes.

I didn’t. Mistake number two.

Instead I slid out of the booth. “Sorry, ‘bout this. I have to take it. Work. Special project, due tomorrow.” Why I had to lie should be obvious. Why I felt the need to explain it to my date would require weeks and weeks of therapy. I made my way through the crowded bar to the pay phone by the restroom, took a deep breath and flipped open the phone.

“Harriet.”

“Benjamin”

Awkward pause.

“Need something?”

More silence.

“Ohh kaay…well, it was good to hear from you. Feel free to call back and say my name some other time. I’ve got to…”

“Wait. Wait. Can you talk?”

I glanced over at the table, my date sipping from the Long Island I had lavished on her. “Actually, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“Oh.” More silence. “OK.” Even more silence. “I guess…”

“What do you want to say, Harriet? You obviously called for something. Just spit it out.”

I know it sounds harsh, but I’d had enough. It’d been six months. You can only carry a torch so long before you’re left with just a smoldering stump. I’d finally moved on and was looking forward to the rest of my life.

I heard her sniff and her face filled my senses and I knew it was bad.

“Mark died.”

And the phone went silent.

And the air left my body.

And the bar turned upside down.

I grabbed a waiter by the arm, jammed a fifty into his pocket and told him to take care of my date. No use going back there now. Mark was dead. Harriet was alone. I knew where I needed to be. I stumbled out onto the neon-lit sidewalk, turned right and headed for what would become my home. Æ